


In Your Veins

by Ranranbolly



Series: Brothers in Blood [1]
Category: Lost Boys (1987), Lost Boys (Movies)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Lust, Explicit Language, M/M, Revenge, Slash, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-11
Packaged: 2018-05-05 00:16:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5353661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ranranbolly/pseuds/Ranranbolly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David wakes up after his battle with Michael and decides to try again. This time it won't be Max's blood he forces on his reluctant companion, but David's own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, no new chapters in this story, I just decided to brush back through the archives and do some editing. Didn't delete anything, just added a few details and thoughts.

_"It's too late. My blood is in your veins."_

_"So is mine!"_

From one second to the next, it happened too fast for him to react, and then sharp spikes of bone were punching through his chest and stomach, trapping him, impaling him. He screamed, staring at the horns in shock. Pain. Overwhelming, blind, white _pain_. David wondered in the split second between agony and bliss whether he'd finally have peace from the hunger. The very thought was what made him smile when smoke began to rise from his body. Well, that and the fact that Michael had more than driven his point home for him. He really was a killer. It was a shame he still didn't seem to get it. Their fight in the air had almost been like a dance, exhilarating enough to almost make these final moments worth it.

David didn't feel the gentle press of his maker's fingers against his chin as the elder vampire inspected him. Nor did he hear the pompous little speech Max spouted out in his big moment, or register the building around him shuddering with the impact as the older vampire was driven into the wall by enormous wooden poles. No, he didn't feel much of anything in the darkness now. Nothing physical, at least.

He was neither cold, nor hot, nor anything in between...and so David pondered on the creature he had tried to make. The brother he had tried to welcome into his pack. He regretted the lie he'd uttered before his death, because it really wasn't _his_ blood he'd given to Michael. It was Max's. Max...the man who ultimately made every decision for him and the boys. Max...the man who put on a performance for the locals and pretended they were nothing to him but a common nuisance, rather than his own 'children'. Children. What a fucking joke. More like errand boys he always expected to be at his beck and call, and raged at when they only did what nature intended. They were predators. Not a cute little family. Not a group of young boys who simply needed a mother's guiding hand. Killers, plain and simple.

...fuck Max. David was free from him now, though he really didn't know what it really meant yet.

If it had been _his_ blood running through Michael's veins...David would have been stronger than him, had a firmer guiding hand. He would have sensed everything about Michael, known the boy inside and out. Hell, he'd even be able to force a few of his own desires on the brunette, with Michael none the wiser. But since he was truly the childe of _Max,_ and _not_ David, thanks to the master vampire's blood he insisted the boys always use in welcoming a new member into their 'family'...it was no wonder Michael caught him off guard in that last moment and pierced him through and through with the grisly horns that killed him. He had no doubt whatsoever that he _was_ dead...

Was he going to Hell? Was there a Hell? Surely, if holy water burnt like a bitch, there must be something after death. Otherwise it wouldn't really make much sense. By all rights, he wouldn't be thinking anymore, and certainly not concerned about the very near future he had to look forward to. He knew he definitely wasn't going to the other place, after all. A smile tugged at the corner of David's lips, which he actually realized was pretty odd, now that he thought about it. Why did he still have lips to smile with? Or for that matter...a body? Shouldn't he have melted or crumbled to dust by now? Exploded? Burst into flames and taken the whole goddamn place down with him?

David began to claw at the darkness he was suspended in, seeking light in the abyss. Light that had for so long shunned him, and driven the blonde to seek shelter in caves during the day, seemed like it would be a blessing now. At least...enough light to see by. Enough light to know truly without a doubt whether or not he was rotting in Hell or slipping into nothingness. The idea of simply floating in darkness...that seemed far worse to a man who spent his nights seeking endless thrills and excitement to keep eternity from dragging him down. Because if you lived a life like Max, playing house, playing human...it would definitely do that.

The more he struggled, and clawed, and kicked, the more he realized that the pain of his death was coming back. It wasn't as intense now, and he didn't feel the horns anymore, but he was no longer comforted so much by the utter lack of feeling in the darkness. It was as if every limb had gone numb at once, and was gradually coming back to itself. Almost unbearable. Perhaps Hell was closer than he'd thought.

 _"Fuck!"_ He mentally screamed, reaching to his own chest and finding several gaping holes large enough to push his fists through. He pulled his gloved hands back and rubbed his fingers together. They were tacky and glittering with his own blood. He growled, plucking at the leather and peeling the gloves away, clenching them in his fists.

He wasn't dead. Not completely. Despite the gut-wrenching pain that was beginning to assault him in full force, the thought filled him with a devious glee. He should have realized of course that Michael couldn't have really killed him. After all...horns were made of bone, not wood. No, tonight there'd be no Hell for David. Nor, he realized, would there be any freedom, if Max had his way after all.

Feral eyes squinted in the darkness as another fresh wave of agony washed over him. But he could move. He could see. He could _feel._ David slowly turned his head to glance about the room, survey his surroundings, and that simple movement more labored than it should have been. His muscles screamed in protest with the effort.

It was still a mess...through the doorway he caught a glimpse of a dim light in the kitchen. The family must have dragged him from his resting place and left him to wait until morning to properly dispose of his corpse. Perhaps to let the sun do the work for them, so all that was left would be a bit of dust to sweep up and throw in the trash or bury in the back garden. That was the only conclusion David could come to. Not really the grand finale he'd always pictured for himself, or very worthy of any vampire worth his chops in his opinion.

Noting a pile of Dwayne's darkened limbs in a corner nearby, and the skeletal remains of Paul...David knew he was right. There'd be no funeral for the Lost Boys. Dark rage filled him when he gazed at what was left of his brothers, aside from Marko back at the cave, no doubt still soaked in his own blood and shriveled up by now. He would make the Emersons and the Frogs pay for what they did to his pack. He would make Star pay for taking Laddie with her and aiding in their destruction. What's more...he would make Michael pay...and then he'd probably fuck him a few times for good measure. Because he still wanted him; still owned him, even if he'd never gotten around to properly taking him.

David stretched his limbs, slowly testing his strength as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. It was...not easy. In fact, it was just another reminder of the insatiable hunger he'd thought he escaped from in death. His stomach began to churn, and little streams of blood oozed from the holes in his body, leaving him weaker with the passing second as his precious life fluid departed from his body in steady trickles of thick red globs. He'd have to eat soon, or his own lack of blood would finish the job the Emersons had started.

Frowning, David did not have the energy to smooth his features. His face quickly reverted to its ghastly vampiric shape, and the blaze of his yellow eyes seemed to illuminate the shadows about him. He pushed himself onto shaky legs, stumbled, and fell, barely managing to bite back a stream of curses.

This was not going to be easy...and the only thing that kept him from letting out a beastly howl was the fact that it would probably wake the assholes responsible for this whole mess in the first place. _Why_ did Michael fight him so much? _Why_ had Star been so difficult? _Why_ were Max's ashes and bits of charred bone sitting in the corner of the room?

Actually...that last part wasn't so bad. David weakly smirked and begun to drag himself across the floor, leaving streaks of blood behind him. With 'dad' gone, David was the head vampire now. That meant Thorne would be his...and finally, Santa Carla as well.

Combinations of angry expletives, frustrated questions, and gleeful thoughts of his future swirled in David's mind as he pulled himself towards the stairs. Bit by bit, inch by inch, he progressed forward. His muscles screamed with the effort, but he pressed on. If he stopped, they'd wake up. If he stopped, the sun would rise and destroy what was left of him. He couldn't stop…

As he drug himself up the stairs, each step left him drained of more energy, the motion of rising forcing larger spurts of blood to flow from his body. How much of it did he have left to lose, he wondered? Hopefully he wouldn't have to find out. How long had it been by the time he finally found himself lying in front of the doorway to Michael's room? That was a question he didn't care to answer. David was quite satisfied to note, however, that Michael was lying huddled in a ball on the side of his bed, back turned to the door...and neither Star nor Laddie could be seen. He imagined the boy's mother insisted they sleep with her that night. It was almost amusing to think that after what she must have seen, premarital sex could have upset her in anyway. He vaguely recollected Star mentioning Michael's parents being hippies at one point, and almost chuckled at the thought. Half of Michael's bed was absolutely destroyed, by what looked like a very small and very angry vampire. It was a wonder he was able to sleep at all with what little there was left of an actual mattress.

But David kept pressing forward into Michael's room, the metal bits of his leather jacket scraping on the floor. The boy slept on...and David grinned. The blood lust was calling in full force now, when he was so close to that he could hear the enticing staccato of blood pumping beneath Michael's sweet white flesh. It gave David just enough strength to gently close the door behind him, and finally rise to his feet to cross the room.

 _"Michael,"_ he whispered darkly, almost hissing between his fangs, his voice a dangerous warning, a sinister promise.

Michael twitched in his sleep, no doubt already dreaming of some horrible vision. It was amazing he slept at all. David noted with no small measure of surprise that upon a bedside table nearby was an opened bottle of Valium. Thankfully it wouldn't affect him...in fact, it was going to make this job _much_ easier.


	2. Drinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael's forced to drink blood once more, and David reclaims the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is an additional split in this story compared to the FF version, but the words are exactly the same. I just didn't want to lose the comments when I was editing it on here.

He didn't take Valium very often. It was one of the many wonderful pills adorning his mother's medicine cabinet since things with dad went south and she had to find that extra push just to level her nerves, and she'd often encourage both him and Sammy to take a few when they were having off days. Like it was some kind of medical miracle, a solution to any and all problems they couldn't fix with talking. Though he usually turned it down, resting in his cold bed tonight, especially after the events that had unfolded, was going to be impossible if he didn't get a little nudge from 'mother's little helper'. So he popped two, and waited for sleep to come, and waited for the stress and the trauma of the last few days to uncoil from his chest. It was a snake, and he knew it would pretty much follow him for the rest of his life.

Within half an hour, the pills helped him fly away to an empty world where sleep was the only law. No dreams would haunt him tonight, and no thoughts of the nightmare that had unfolded for them all from the moment he stepped foot on the boardwalk and Star caught his eye. As he drifted away, Michael thought of that curly-haired gypsy girl fondly. They hadn't spent much time together, but already it felt like he could never be apart from her. That spangled skirt and soft breath caressing his cheek would follow him for years to come. His lips curved into a small smile, imagining what she must look like reclining in the sun and soaking it into her skin. How glorious that would be.

Speaking of soft breath...he could swear he felt it even now on his face, though he knew he shouldn't be dreaming. It had to be her, as if his mere thoughts of Star summoned the girl from his mother's room to his bed. Michael wanted to open his eyes and wrap her into his arms, encase her with him in the crumpled sheets so she could never leave. Kiss away the un-shed tears from her days spent in half-death, replace them with tender words and sweet promises. With daylight and the knowledge that they were both free from murder and death.

"Star," Michael whispered groggily, struggling to even move his fingers. He just felt too heavy. But he was sure she would wait for him, even spend the night beside him despite his mother's insisting she and Laddie sleep apart from Michael tonight. He smiled, and waited for the tickle of her hair to fall on his face. But it didn't.

"No, Michael...not Star..." Came the hushed whisper of the man Michael knew was lying in his grandfather's workroom, dead as dust. Michael's lips twitched, and he finally managed to pry his eyes open.

He expected to see her even now. Expected that those words in response to the name of his lover were merely a trick played on him by a nightmare trying to punch through the fog of his Valium. But he did not see a fall of dark hair above him, nor did he find himself greeting a pair of gentle and loving eyes.

"David..." Michael croaked, unable to summon enough air into his lungs to shout. The strength of the fight had left him, and so had the advantages of being damned.

"Tut tut, Mikey..." David chided, placing a clawed finger on Michael's full lower lip and grinning. His fangs twinkled even now in the darkness, and his eyes...those horrible yellow eyes held promises Michael hoped they couldn't keep.

"Did you already forget my name?" David asked, cocking his head to the side in a mocking semblance of hurt.

"Wh...How?" Michael gulped, his throat felt dry and raspy. Whether it was the drugs or simply the fear that now began to assault him, he didn't know. Nor did he care.

"Do you remember what you said, Michael?" David raised his eyebrows, leaning down until his face was a few inches away from Michael's own.

"Do you remember? Right before you _rammed_ me into those horns? When I told you my blood was in your veins?" David repeated his question, licking his lips. The way he said the word 'rammed' didn't sit well with his victim. It sounded...dirty.

Michael couldn't shake his head. So he remained quiet, and he watched.

"'So...is...mine.' That's what you said, Michael. 'So is mine.'" David continued, leaning back and running the same hand that had touched Michael's lips over his own stomach, claws lingering on the holes in his shirt and chest. He was a gruesome vision, sitting astride Michael's hips, a reminder that he should be dead and rotting downstairs in a puddle of his own blood.

"Well, you were right. Your blood _is_ in your veins. I'm truly sorry about that, Michael. I am..."

Michael spasmed beneath him, in one last attempt to move, to fight and push David away. But the heaviness in his limbs went beyond the mere effects of drugs. It was the dark power in David's eyes when they met his own that pressed him into his bed and kept him from throwing a good punch right into the smug bastard's face.

"But don't worry, I can fix that. The first time, we did it the easy way for you. The blood in that wine bottle was stale, strong enough to do the trick." David wrinkled his nose, leaning down again and nuzzling his face into the side of Michael's cheek, which earned him a disgusted shudder in response. Though there had been teasing glances, the occasional awkward touch of a hand on his back or face when he wasn't paying much attention, David had yet to show this side of himself to Michael.

A mixture between a chuckle and a growl rumbled from David's throat. "...But not strong enough to have all the benefits. When you drink it fresh...it's much harder to fight your maker, Michael. I bet your little brother's Froggies didn't tell you that, did they?" He scoffed, tongue snaking out as he brought his lips down to meet Michael's in a small nipping kiss. Michael bit back in response, which drew an excited grin from David's face.

"We're getting to that part, Michael...so just relax. I promise you'll get plenty of me _inside_ you soon enough..."

Michael's eyes grew wide at the implications of what David said, and he sucked in a deep breath of air. He would scream. He would call his family into the room, get them to finish the job and deal with David once and for all.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," David whispered against Michael's lips, pulling back into a sitting position. "I may not look like much now, but I can kill each and every one of them. I'm stronger than all of you, Michael. Stronger than Max now..."

He was bluffing, but Michael didn't need to know that. Honestly, this gloating was taking a lot out of him, but David was nothing if not a performer. Plus, he had to make sure Michael was nice and complacent for his plan to work.

"So here's what I'm going to do, Michael. I'm going to kill you. Then I'm going to bring you back...I'm going to make sure you love every second of it, even if you don't want to. Then I'm going to fuck you raw, and I'm going to make sure you never leave me again. I don't have any boys left, you know. _Your brother and his little friends made sure of that!_ " David snapped those last words, bringing his clawed hands to Michael's chest and dragging them down his shirt collar, shredding it in the process until his chest was prominently on display, riddled with streaks of blood.

Michael flinched, but he didn't cry out. He may not believe David fully that he could kill each and everyone in the house, but he didn't want to take a risk that even one of them would die.

"Do you understand me?" David hissed, saliva dripping from his fangs. He couldn't hold off from his meal much longer. Michael may not have nodded, may not have even spoken, but the way his eyes seemed to scream 'fuck you' was enough to satisfy David.

In the blink of an eye, maybe less, he was upon his victim, sharp fangs plunged deep into Michael's neck. Michael wanted to scream, to claw at David and push him away...but he couldn't. He _couldn't._

Seconds seemed to tick by like minutes, and with David's chest pressed against his own, Michael could feel the sucking pressure of the monster's wounds shrinking even as his own blood left his body. He whimpered, the strength of his anger and his hatred fading into a very dull pain. What's more, the ache in his neck as David growled and sucked at the wound he'd made was beginning to take on a whole new depth of feeling. It was like fire raging through Michael's body, reminding his muscles exactly what it felt like when he'd watched the Lost Boys dine on the beach, through the shadows of the tree.

"Please..." Michael whimpered pointlessly, trying to push David away. He didn't want this. He wanted the sun. He wanted to live, to grow old, to make love to Star every night for the rest of his days. The idea of David instead...well, it was repugnant. If Michael had known something like this was in store for him before he'd tried to kill David, he would have stuck around and made sure it worked.

David growled in response to his victim's feeble cry, the wounds in his chest and stomach finally gone. He could keep going, keep drinking until Michael was as dry as garlic skin. He could move on to each and every member of the household afterwards. He could do so much now, with Michael's strength and life pumping through his veins and reminding him exactly how exquisite it was to be dead.

But...he didn't. Because then, the game would be over. Truthfully, too, David didn't want to be alone. Even as he reluctantly pulled himself away from Michael's neck, and watched the clammy boy fade out of consciousness again, he didn't want to be alone...and he never would be. David grinned, wiping at his face and licking the sticky substance from his fingers. It tasted like the sweetest treat, made sweeter by knowing who it came from.

David looked at his own wrist with glee, tearing into it and pressing the wound to Michael's unyielding lips. For a long moment, Michael did not respond.

David frowned. Had he taken too much? It would be pointless to lose his own blood if Michael didn't even have the strength to swallow.

Clicking his tongue against his fangs, the lost boy waited impatiently, using one hand to force Michael's jaw open wider so that the blood would have easier access to drip down his throat. Still...he didn't move.

" _Michael, if you don't drink my fucking blood right now, I'm going to kill everyone!_ " David hissed threateningly. It finally seemed to do the trick, and Michael managed to rouse himself enough to drag his tongue across David's wrist. The blonde thrilled at the slick feeling, a shiver running down his spine. He watched as the hunger for life crept into the boy's face, forcing Michael to actively drink what was offered, and gradually it became an eager experience for both parties.

David watched Michael clamp down on his wrist, and bite into the skin, though he didn't yet have fangs to do much damage. Excitedly, he witnessed his first childe blossom into death once more. The other boys had been his, by way of Max, of course. But they'd never had David's blood. Never shared each other's. Only Max's.  
Though his heart had little to do but rest lifelessly in his chest, David felt as if it would be thrumming a thousand miles a second right now, watching Michael intently. He remembered the day on the boardwalk, when he'd first glimpsed the boy jealously watching Star climb onto the back of his bike. David's thoughts at the time had been simple. He'd wondered what Michael's cock looked like. Frankly, he wondered it now too.

Oh, the boys had caught a good eyeful of Michael and Star going at it like bunnies in the hotel, but they hadn't been close enough to get a look at the important parts. David admired the curves of Michael's back then, the strength with which he clung to the girl. Honestly, he'd hoped even then to become more intimate with the boy in time. He might have even let Michael come to share a bed with him of his own accord, but things were much different now. David was not going to wait any more. Michael had lost the right to 'make his own decisions' when he'd led his brother and the Frogs to their sanctuary.

"Michael," David whispered, pulling his wrist away. Michael struggled to keep it against his mouth, which made David grin, but he needed to stop the boy now before he lost much more of the precious fluid again. There wasn't enough time to go on another hunt. He'd spent far too much of the night dragging himself up the stairs.

Michael involuntarily hissed, slamming his head back on the pillow and squirming.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" David asked, smirking. He kept his eyes glued to Michael's face and watched the change with interest. David had been the only member of Max's gang to experience the turn straight from the vein, so he'd never been a witness to just how erotic it could be.

First, Michael's heart ceased to beat. When it had happened back in the cave, they'd plied him with too much weed and liquor for it to hurt. But now, sober (save for the lingering effects of the Valium), Michael's eyes were filled with intense fear and pain. He gasped for air he couldn't find. David clamped his hands about Michael's wrist as the boy began to thrash in his bed. To be honest, it was getting him pretty hard, but he'd have to wait until later to deal with that little nuisance. If he did anything now, he'd want to go to sleep afterwards...and that was _incredibly_ dangerous under the current circumstances.

Michael's teeth were stained with blood, and his tongue was darting out to frantically lick up every single drop. By the time they were once more as pearly and white as they should have been, two fangs had descended. David wanted to kiss those cute incisors, but he'd probably pull back without a tongue right now if he did. As excited as he was becoming right now, he was almost glad Michael had tried to kill him. Otherwise, he wouldn't get to enjoy this delicious sight. It was much better this way.

Finally, Michael ceased to struggle, and settled onto his bed once more, his eyes taking on an orange-ish yellow glow. David smirked even as he felt something stir beneath him. Trapped in the confines of his jeans, Michael was just as hard as him now.

Pain, hunger, anger, hatred, shock, and finally...arousal washed over Michael's face as he looked down at David's hips astride his own and back into the master vampire's face.

"What were you expecting to happen, Michael? You belong to me now..." David teased.

"Too bad we'll have to wait until tomorrow night to take care of it," he casually continued, slipping off of Michael and standing at the foot of the boy's bed. "It's time to go home," he finished, holding his hand out to the reluctant (and oh so angry) brunette. Michael wanted to jump up and slap that hand away, throw a few good punches for good measure, and kill David all over again. But...he also wanted to fuck him, and that last part definitely scared the hell out of the boy who'd never once in his life thought he'd want to even touch another guy's dick.

"Come on, Michael..." David quirked an eyebrow. The bastard could read Michael's thoughts, and it was making him even more excited.

Angrily, and very reluctantly, Michael managed to stand. But he did not take David's hand as they crossed towards his bedroom window and pushed it open.

"I fucking hate you," he growled before they took flight together. David's laughter echoed into the night air.


	3. Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David takes his new charge back to the sunken hotel, and Michael is forced to learn how to sleep properly.

This was insane. Michael felt like he'd gone crazy, sailing through the sky with nothing on but his jeans and the shreds of a gray t-shirt, scraps of it flying off of him as the early morning wind beat against his skin. He was too tired too complain, though, and too afraid to turn back and grab a new shirt. He wasn't strong enough to fight David in this state right now, and hell...Michael didn't even know how to decide _where_ he flew. He just kind of...floated wherever the wind, or perhaps, wherever David took him. He was a kite, subject to just about everything but his own whims.

"Something on your mind?" David shouted, wrapping his arms around Michael's stomach and nuzzling his ear. The brunette tried to shove him away. The mere touch of him...god, it reminded Michael of the uncomfortable feeling in his jeans right now. He didn't know what was going on, but he knew he definitely did not like it. He didn't like any of this, and he was fairly certain the only reason he wasn't breaking down right now was the remains of the Valium and a healthy dose of crippling shock assaulting his ability to feel anything but anger. Anger, and...well... _that._

"What did you do to me?" Michael demanded, practically yelped, as David's hands slipped away from him and they began their descent towards the caves in which the sunken hotel nestled.

"Please, spare me the stupid questions, Michael. You know damn well what I did to you...and you loved every second of it," David drawled, diving towards the cave with Michael close behind him. He could feel the warmth of the approaching sun on his back, just barely on the verge of kissing the horizon. They didn't have much time, and Michael desperately hoped David would catch flame before they got there. Even if it meant Michael would be human again as David's blood lost its influence, and he'd be sent hurtling to the ground to his own death as well. It would be better than whatever David had in store for him, that was for damn sure.

They did not stop in the lobby where the oil drums rested with remains of countless parties, and the bed in which Michael had shared that one glorious night with Star. His heart, though it was not beating, still seemed to hammer against his chest as he thought about her. What was going to happen when she found out he was gone? What was going to happen to everyone else?

They did not stop in the slender corridor in which the Lost Boys normally roosted, and Marko very likely still lay dead to the world if they cared to linger and inspect it. Michael hadn't seen the damage done, but he vaguely recalled the distant bragging of Sam's little friends when he was sleeping in the back seat of grandpa's car, their gesticulating so wild as they described the event like it was some kind of fucking game or show, flinging droplets of wet gore on his face and him being too tired to brush it away or shout at them to shut the Hell up.

They pressed on further than Michael had been in the few days since he'd been tricked into joining this grotesque parody of a family, and then dragged back into it when he had managed to escape for only a few hours. A few hours that could have been a lifetime if he'd only stopped to _check_ if David was really dead...

They went on and on, through twisted passages and caved-in hovels, at times only cracks of black soil and cave walls, and at other times the warped shape of door frames and strips of vibrant green wallpaper that still refused to rot away or collapse from the strain of being crushed beneath the earth. They flew so fast, and descended so quickly, that Michael's head swirled with the vague images of old photographs or shredded furniture littering the rooms they took shortcuts through.

It seemed like David was going to lead him to the very center of the earth, as many turns and twists as they took, and Michael very nearly crashed into him when the blonde finally came to a stop in a magnificently large room. Or...what used to be a room.

"It was the dining hall," David smirked as he answered a question Michael didn't voice, indicating a broken chandelier covered in dust and grit below them. Michael frowned, and surveyed the room without acknowledging David's little fun fact. For all he cared, the monster could stew in his own self-satisfaction. He didn't have any plans to ever talk to the evil bastard again if he could help it.

"Give me the silent treatment all you like, Michael," David shrugged, grabbing at the top of Michael's jeans and pulling the boy in close. How David could be so casual after the night they'd all had was beyond him.

It felt strange, hovering in the air, being led on an invisible leash by this monster. "And you expect me to sleep here?" Michael quirked an eyebrow, gritting his teeth when David's claws skimmed across the bulge beneath his pants. Being forced to acknowledge it was beyond humiliating.

"Well, of course I do. My mistake last time was letting you go back to your old family," David sneered, rising towards the ceiling and dragging Michael with him, still leading him with a finger hooked over his waistband.

"This time I'll keep you nice and close..." David hissed into Michael's ear when they reached the ceiling. Drilled into the bits of plaster and rock were several rusted metal poles. Michael hadn't seen Marko's death, nor had he seen how they actually slept...so it was safe to say he was fairly confused. He had no idea what the poles were for.

"What the hell?" Michael exclaimed, reaching down to try and pry David's hand away from his jeans...without much success.

David sighed, finally releasing Michael of his own accord and slipping off his boots to reveal two feet with gnarly looking claws. Michael wrinkled his nose at the sight.

"Get used to it, Mikey, you'll have a set of your own in a few minutes..." David smirked, grabbing onto one of the poles above him and swinging his feet upwards to hook his claws securely around the metal. The lower portion of his long coat dangled above him like a cape. He was like a strange hybrid between Dracula and Bowie.

Somehow, killing David didn't do it. Neither did being killed by David afterwards. Being brought back...flying half-naked over the beach...struggling with an unwanted arousal and the fact that at any moment his family could be slaughtered if he fought back...none of this drove Michael over the edge. But being told that he was about to sleep dangling from a rusty pipe with his toes...that was a little too much to handle right now.

Michael started laughing. Softly at first, but quickly becoming louder. It was hysteria setting in, fucking hysteria. " _I can't do this. I can't be here. I can't drink blood. I can't kill people. I can't sleep like a bat. I can't have sex with a guy!_ " These thoughts were the subtext to his cackling, and in a few short seconds, his eyes trailed down towards his feet, dangling in the air beneath him...to witness David's promise bear fruit. Claws grew, thick and yellow, grisly and quite disgusting to look at.

He might have continued laughing until exhaustion drove him to fall back to the ground and fall asleep fifty feet below. Thankfully, a pale hand sailed through the dark and smacked Michael right across the face, claws just barely skimming his cheek. He fell back a little bit, dazed and silent when he met the glowing yellow eyes of David in front of him, already dangling comfortably from the pole above.

"Get your ass up here and go to sleep, Michael," he grumbled. Outside, the sun was beginning to finally climb over the horizon, and David simply didn't have the energy right now to tease or talk. He just wanted some rest.

What could Michael do? Fight? His limbs were already growing heavy again, like he'd popped another couple Valium for the road. And sleeping on the ground, though comforting in an emotional sense...right now just just didn't seem as satisfying as saddling up on the pole beside David above.

The choice was made for him before he could continue to ponder, when David reached over and grabbed the waist of his childe's pants again to drag him closer to the ceiling. Michael sighed, hooking his feet onto the pole and giving up. He was just...too...tired. He didn't linger much on the thought that the process was coming to him far too easily for comfort. As if he'd done this a thousand times before.

David kept his eyes cracked open, small yellow slits, watching his creation reluctantly succumb to exhaustion. In the shadows, he could see much more than a mortal. He could see the delicate lines of Michael's curls, rising slightly above his head...dark and rich. They probably matched the color of other curls he was anxious to get his hands on.

He studied the face in front of him, memorized every line. The thick eyebrows, full lower lip, and strong jaw. Michael had the kind of face a person could see once, and feel nothing...but gradually become more enchanted with time, until they couldn't pull their eyes away. Frankly, David might not have even bothered with this perverse revenge if Michael _didn't_ look as good as he did.

Stirring, shifting on the pole, David yawned. It was going to be a bit troublesome sleeping, as hard as he was, but tomorrow night would be twice as good. And he'd finally be able to break his rebellious prize in, once and for all. Of course there was still the little problem of Michael's motorcycle still nestled safely back at his mortal family's house, and he'd have to fetch it later to make it look like his new fledgling had simply skipped town, but he'd worry about that little detail later.


	4. Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David attempts to romance Michael, and it doesn't really pan out. But there's another surprise in store for the pair, and suddenly they aren't so alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild slash follows in this chapter. For the more sensitive readers, just skip this one and assume David did bad things to Michael.

_”_ _Michael! Are you in here?”_

_“_ _Mikey, where are you? Michael!”_

 

In the darkness, reed-thin echoes pierced Michael's sleep. It was Sam and Star...had they figured out what happened? Did they know he was trapped here beside David?

 

Groggily, he cracked open his eyes and squinted, listening intently for any further shouts. But none came. A minute stretched into ten, and he couldn't stay awake any longer. He wasn't even aware when his eyes closed of their own accord, but soon he was asleep once more. And both Star and Sam were gone. Long after their departure, Michael dreamed of dark curls brushing his face, and a far more innocent lust than the one that would imminently drive him for the rest of his days. However endless that may be.

David heard the shouts too, and he was more than a little satisfied to note when they faded away. He'd been smart to pick a new sleeping spot...it was too bad he hadn't thought of this place sooner... 

* * *

Two things happened, once the sun had safely disappeared from the early evening sky: David awoke completely refreshed and ready to gorge himself on a nightly hunt, and Michael fell screaming to the ground when his feet slipped and he forgot he could fly. A cloud of dust rose up around him as he groaned on the floor of the former dining hall. He was sure he'd cracked a few ribs. And his left leg was twisted in a very concerning angle.

David gently released his claws from the pole above, and glided to the ground with a great measure more grace than his companion.

"Having a little trouble?" He asked, crossing his arms and smirking. He was reminded of Marko's first night as an official member of their pack, years ago. The shortest Lost Boy had taken a little bit more time to get the hang of hanging too. If Star had given more of an effort to enjoy their lifestyle as well, she might have had a few of her own problems rigging up her skirt so she didn't flash everyone while they tried to sleep. David chuckled both at the thought, and the sight of Michael struggling to pull his leg up.

"You're going to have to re-set it, idiot," David remarked, kneeling down beside his childe with more than a small measure of smugness plastered across his face.

"Fuck you," Michael grumbled, pushing himself into a sitting position and biting back a scream at the pain in his chest. He was too pre-occupied to notice, but David could already hear the gentle cracking of rib bones mending. It truly was a marvelous thing to be a vampire. Even only half of one. The speed at which they could recover from injuries a mortal might never survive was astonishing.

"If you're going to be difficult about this, I won't help you." David stood up and acted as if he were going to fly away, but Michael's hand quickly snaked out to grab the cuff of David's pants leg.

"..." He glared up at his maker, quiet. Refusing to speak.

"Ask me, Michael. Ask for my help, and I will gladly give it to you." David spread his arms and flashed a very toothy grin.

The brunette was beginning to shiver now, from the pain in his leg, the remaining ache in his ribs, and a growing thirst he wished he could push away. It took a lot out of a vampire to heal, and a lot of blood to make up for it. But he looked as if he was going to remain stubborn as ever, because he bit his bottom lip to keep himself from speaking. He bit it so hard, a trickle of blood dripped down his chin.

"Please. That's all you have to say! 'Please, David, I need your help.' Why won't you just fucking say it?" David knelt down, growling. At first, when Michael fought them before they revealed their true natures on the beach, the boy's resistance had been amusing. Cute, even. When he and Michael fought in the old man's taxidermy workshop, David had admired his stubborn bravado. The sight of the boy in all of his vampiric glory, still refusing to accept what he was...David had enjoyed that too. But right at this moment, he was beginning to get pissed off all over again. It was like dealing with a petulant toddler who'd hold his breath until he blacked out, rather than eat the vegetables on his plate or cry when he was being spanked. Admittedly, the idea of spanking Michael was quite tempting...

This was a small battle of wills. A voice at the back of David's mind told him that if he gave in now, took care of Michael's pain without breaking his pride, then he would likely have to do it for the rest of their lives together. That was not going to fly.

“...You brought this on yourself, Michael,” David sighed, stripping off his coat.

“What are you doing?!” Michael released David's pant leg and leaned back on his elbows to support himself. There was no way he'd lay down again in front of this asshole.

“I'm teaching you a lesson. And...I'm keeping the promise I made to you last night...” David replied, his tone almost bored. He was honestly excited beyond words, but he'd contain himself for now. Make it look like this was going to be their nightly routine if Michael didn't learn to submit. Because it probably was.

“Kill me, then, David. I don't want to be a killer like you, and I don't want anything to do with your fucked up games!” Michael hissed, shifting with some difficulty so he could drag himself a bit further away from David. It didn't get him very far, and only served to remind him of the awkward position his leg was in. But at least that pain distracted him from the erection rubbing against his jeans.

David's coat went sailing through the air and landed right on Michael's head. He frowned, shrugging it away and glaring back at David with twice as much rage in his eyes. Almost enough to bring the orange-yellow glow out in full force. But he wasn't going to let that part of himself take control, so Michael began to count to ten. Watching David striptease in front of him was making it difficult.

“Aren't you going to say anything?!” Michael demanded, somehow more disturbed by the lack of a response.

“Sometimes it's better to let actions speak for themselves,” David replied, stripping off his shirt and folding it neatly before placing it on the ground and starting to work on his pants. He noted with glee a furious red flush coming to Michael's face. Anger? Or...

“Are you blushing, Mikey?” David grinned.

“I'm going to bite it off if you get that thing near me,” Michael whispered threateningly, eyes flicking over David's crotch. Now that the blonde had managed to strip down to nothing but his birthday suit, it was very clear he was more than a little excited to 'teach Michael a lesson'.

“Is that so?” David crossed around until he had his legs standing on both sides of Michael's hips, and he knelt down to straddle him, much as he had the previous night...there was just less fabric between them. And both parties were far more aroused. Michael attempted to shift, pull himself out from beneath his captor, but he was held in place when David leaned down to press a hand firmly on the his chest.

“If you bite it off, I'll bite yours. I'm much better at it than you are, Michael. So just try me...” David warned, his face fully vampiric by now, a promise of what could happen if Michael put up a fight.

The brunette closed his eyes and kept his mouth firmly sealed, leaning back on the ground and hoping he could just play dead. Even if he was harder than asphalt right now, he was not about to suck a guy's dick. Definitely not a vampire's. And definitely not David's. The blonde could drink all of Michael's blood he wanted, beat him to a bloody pulp, make any manner of ridiculous threats he wasn't likely to follow through on, because Michael wasn't about to-

“What are you doing?!” Michael yelped, his eyes snapping open. David had gotten to work unzipping his fly and yanking his pants down to his knees, getting a good eyeful of Michael's own cock in the process.

“I'm baking cookies, Michael,” David replied sarcastically, wrapping his left hand firmly around the boy's penis and smirking.

“Get your hands off of me!” Michael protested, hissing when David shifted and leaned back on his broken leg.

“I'm sorry, what was that? Did you say something?” David asked innocently, slowly moving his hand and stroking Michael's shaft. This elicited an involuntary shudder from the angry brunette, which only got David even more excited as he continued to stroke and caress Michael's dick.

“You know, Michael, it's much bigger than I expected. I'm sure you know the old phrase that some dogs have barks worse than their bites? Not that I'm complaining. Really, I like how big it is...” David continued conversationally, and Michael could only angrily throw his head back against the ground and focus on mental images of England to distract himself. It wasn't easy. He didn't know a damn thing about England besides the names of a few breakfast teas.

“Oh...I almost forgot...” David ceased his stroking and leaned back to grab Michael's leg. Without so much as a glance, he jerked the calf straight and popped it back into place.

Michael screamed out in pain, and only a moderate amount of frustration that David had stopped focusing on his dick. As aroused as he reluctantly was right now, having a broken leg reset was still a fucking nightmare.

“Feeling any better, _baby_?” David taunted as he renewed his efforts at giving Michael a thoroughly distracting handjob.

“...F....Fuck you...” Michael ground his teeth together, relieved that a sudden numbness was spreading through his leg. Even he couldn't miss the sound of the bones cracking this time, while the healing process miraculously set into motion. But now...god he was hungry.

“Everything in time, Michael...” David removed his hand, grinning. He didn't finish, but he did lean down to give the boy's head (the one between his legs) a quick lick. In twitched in response.

“You're not even going to finish?!” Michael shouted, angrier than ever. Angry, because he was actually beginning to kind of like it. Not that he wouldn't have preferred a more slender, feminine hand doing the job. Maybe one with less callouses and shorter nails...why was he even thinking about it? Fuck, he was going crazy.

David laughed, leaning down to leave a trail of kisses on Michael's chest and abdomen, biting every so often just enough to break the skin and quickly lick up the blood droplets that formed. The brunette shivered again, an reached down to push David's head away.

“Please...stop.” Michael whispered, swallowing his pride and gazing up at the ceiling. It was easier than meeting David's eyes.

“...You won't say please when you want me to fix your broken leg, but you'll say please when I'm kissing you?” David asked, quickly becoming irritated now. If Michael had just said 'stop', it would have been one thing he could brush aside with an amused smirk, but the fact that the bastard had the nerve to use the word please.

If they stopped now, Michael could just pull up his pants and complain about David being a sick bastard, then maybe they could move on from there. That was clearly what the brunette was hoping for. That was clearly not what was going to happen.

Standing up, David stepped over to Michael's side and knelt down to grab him by the hair, yanking it until Michael's face was level with his. “What is wrong with you?” He demanded, honestly wanting an answer. He just couldn't figure Michael out.

“You're the one trying to fuck me, David. Maybe you should ask yourself that question,” Michael hissed, squeezing his eyes closed so he wouldn't see that despicable yellow glow in David's own. Wouldn't be reminded of the monster that was hiding in himself too, waiting to escape and rend the flesh of the next human being he came into contact with. Or the fact that...well...he kind of liked it, seeing David in the throes of his hunger. That was the sort of thought you had and repressed violently with weight lifting and rock music.

David released Michael's hair and reached down to dig his claws into the boy's torso, drawing a throaty cry from the Michael's throat as he flipped him over onto his chest. Pulling his hands away, he noted how lovely his claws looked coated in Michael's blood. David licked it up like a cat drinking water, and focused his attention back on Michael's lovely body. Strong and supple...perfect in every way imaginable, and now...preserved for eternity in it's prime.

As for Michael, who wasn't currently gazing lustfully at David's own body, well, he had half a mind to try and stand up, but his pants were still around his knees...so that was going to make things a lot more difficult.

David licked his lips, running his hands along Michael's back and pressing down firmly when it seemed like the boy was going to try and struggle to get away from him again.

“I'm going to enjoy this,” David remarked, wondering if perhaps going in dry would be enough to teach the boy a lesson. It would be a little uncomfortable at first, but it wasn't like he hadn't done it on occasion when Paul or Dwayne pissed him off.

Unfortunately, before he could elaborate on the idea, or pursue it further...a soft clapping sound interrupted their 'romantic' solemnity.

Michael was the first to jerk his face towards the source of the sound, face burning furiously red that someone had seen them. David's gaze soon followed, and his eyes very nearly popped out of his skull.

There, standing at the entrance to the dining hall, amid piles of rubble and mortar, was a very familiar figure with long blonde hair, and a ridiculously busy denim jacket coated in his own blood. A half-smile crossed his lips when he ceased clapping and pressed one of his hands over a small spot on his chest, and the other against the rotted frame of the doorway to support himself.

“You know, those Frogs have really shitty aim. I don't think they even know where the heart is,” Marko laughed. “But I'm glad to see you two are having fun without me...I never was a fan of David's kinks,” he howled with laughter, face twitching as he grabbed at his chest a bit tighter. It wasn't bleeding, but clearly it still hurt.

“You're alive!” David exclaimed, quickly pulling himself off of Michael and reaching for his neatly folded pants on the ground. For Michael's part, he was glad to have a chance to pull his jeans back up and roll onto his back so he could zip them. Even if he was painfully hard.

“Yeah, I am. You stupid fucks didn't even bother to check before you took off last night, did you? Do you know what a bitch it was to spend the rest of the night drinking from rats just so I could walk? I just barely got enough energy tonight to catch a stray dog! When I get my hands on Dwayne and Paul, I'm going to beat the shit out of them...” Marko frowned as he snapped, and David couldn't be happier to see him.


	5. Talking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short conversation between Marko and Michael.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At first I hadn't planned on bringing Marko into the story, but he sort of just wrote himself in. Definitely not regretting that choice now.

David reclined on his 'throne', twirling a pleasantly-laced and yet unlit cigarette in his hand while he watched Marko from across the room. It was more than gratifying to know that the feisty little member of their group, though not quite the smallest if you factored Laddie into the mix, was alive and well. As alive as any of them could be, anyway.

For his part, Marko was furiously pacing, kicking up dirt with his boots, and every so often to kick at one of the flaming oil drums in his path. He spun towards David and frowned, arms crossed.

“If you had just taken a couple of minutes to look at me, made sure I wasn't _fucking dead_ , I could have been with you guys. We'd have been able to take them all on, no problem! And now...Paul's gone. Dwayne's gone. They're gone, David!” He was far angrier than he generally looked. David had always seen Marko as playful to a degree, but generally quiet unless he had an amusing remark or word of comfort to throw out. There was no secret smile playing on his lips, only anger.

It was wearying to have two hormonal vampires in the cave right now. Michael brooding on the bed with a blanket wrapped around him in the manner Star used to during their nightly games, and Marko refusing to stay in one spot for very long. But, David supposed he was just going to have to learn to live with it until he came in to all of his powers...speaking of which...

“Oh shit. Thorne...” David mumbled, pulling out a lighter and placing his cigarette to his mouth.

“What about Thorne? Did they kill the fucking dog, too?!” Marko exclaimed. David had patiently explained the night before 3 times in detail, and had yet to mention that element of the story.

“No, he's not dead. He's probably hungry though...” David trailed off, taking a long pull from his cigarette and relaxing back against his seat. He supposed he'd have to go out for the hunt tonight anyway, so he'd just stop by Max's old place to grab the dog. Somehow settling into a house didn't really work for the new head vampire. No...he still preferred the sunken hotel.

“You're going to have to bring something back,” Marko advised, slumping down and taking a seat on a large beechwood stump that they'd drug it at one point or another because it looked cool, and rotted slower than an actual chair.

“Still not strong enough to join me on a real hunt?” David asked, holding the cigarette out for Marko to take. He shrugged it away, not in the mood for a smoke, as irritated and tired as he was.

“Nah, man. I mean you're probably gonna want me to keep an eye on Mikey over here until you break him in. Otherwise he'll just try to run away,”

“Don't fucking talk about me as if I'm not here!” Michael barked, speaking up for the first time since their meeting back in the dining hall, and his being forced to relieve his hard-on so walking and flying was a little less difficult. And he'd also be able to pretend the only erotic thoughts that interested him were the kind with tits and spangled skirts.

“Shut up, Michael,” David sighed, rubbing at his temples. Too much was happening tonight for him to focus on his childe. The boy was being such a little bitch.

The brunette had half a mind to make another retort, but he decided to just wrap the blanket tighter and inhale the lingering fragrance of Star. If he wasn't careful, clinging to thoughts of her would eventually turn into a manic obsession. But...he also didn't want to deal with having David teach him a lesson in front of Marko, either. Michael didn't put it past them both to enjoy a bit of voyeurism. He'd be surprised if they didn't, when he recalled the vague sound of laughter on the night he'd made love to Star in the very bed he was sitting on at that moment.

“Yeah, that's not a bad idea, Marko. You keep an eye on Michael, I'll fetch Thorne, and I'll bring us back a couple of meals...” He glanced over at Michael, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes.

“He'll be so hungry now, with all that blood loss..I don't doubt he'll tear right into one of them before he even has a chance to think.”

“... _fuck you_...” Michael whispered, just loud enough to be heard and misconstrued as a private mutter.

“If you're not careful, I might just wash your mouth out with soap before I make you suck my dick,” David remarked, standing up and tucking his cigarette between his lips. He stretched his arms above his head, groaning.

“Keep an eye on our son, Marko,” David winked, taking flight an instant after his remark, laughing as his coat rustled behind him.

Marko rolled his eyes, turning to glance towards Michael through the moth-eaten canopy. The brunette was a brooding haze, and at that very moment reminded him of Star more than he cared to admit. Having another half-vampire hanging around the cave, preaching about mortality and beauty like he was some kind of modern-day Byron was more than Marko thought he could handle that night.

“You scared, Michael?” He asked quietly, crossing his arms over his knees and staring into the flames in the oil drum in front of him. His eyes glowed orange to match the flickering light. “Don't be scared.”

Michael let the blanket slip from around him just a little, and pulled the curtain of the canopy aside. He didn't glare quite as harshly as he might have at David. But then again...Marko hadn't promised to rape him, nor did he threaten to kill Michael's family. There were a lot of things Marko hadn't done, though that still didn't make him one of the good guys.

“I'm not scared,” he rasped. “I'm upset.”

“None of us really want to kill the first time,” Marko sighed, shifting on his seat and glancing back at Michael.

“But you do it anyway,” Michael replied.

“Eventually. You can only hold back for so long. After the first time, though, it doesn't really matter anymore.” Marko tapped his forehead. “Something just...changes. Maybe it's because it just tastes so god damned good, maybe it's because there doesn't seem to be a difference between one and a thousand.”

Michael leaned back, resting his head on the baseboard and letting his arms go slack under the blanket.

“What would you guys have done if I didn't drink from that bottle?” He asked, warily.

“Do you really wanna know?” Marko asked, scratching his chin and smirking.

“I think I already know the answer.”

“Well...there you go.” The older vampire shrugged. “You hate it now, but think of the alternative. Sure beats being the prey.”

Michael's eyes flicked over Marko's jacket, taking in the darker stains over the tacky embroidery. His blood. “So, what, they tried to stake you? Didn't finish the job right?” He asked, afraid of the lingering silence in the cave. Michael didn't want to be left alone to his thoughts. Right now, he didn't like his thoughts.

“Pretty much,” Marko leaned down to grab an unopened can of beer near the oil drum. It wasn't cold, but fuck it. He drank his blood warm. He liked his beer that way too. Popping the tab open, Marko held it back to let the foam settle. “I heard them before they did it, though. Kinda funny shit. They picked me because I'm the 'little one'.” Marko paused, taking a gulp of beer and tilting his head back to gaze at the ceiling of the cave. There was nothing that remained of the former hotel above them. Not in this particular room.

“But I guess I'm lucky. If they'd picked the big one, or the skinny one, or the one with the trench coat...I might have gone to your house and gotten myself offed completely,” he glanced back at Michael and smirked, chuckling. “Even if I am the little one, I could have bitten all their god damn heads off if I wasn't sleeping.”

Michael remained quiet, straightening his legs on the mattress and gazing down at his feet.

“...You don't think David's going to bring some clothes back for me too, do you?” He asked, smirking dryly. He really didn't want to spend eternity half-dressed, proclaiming to the whole world that though he was a bloodthirsty killer...he was apparently David's bitch too.

“Whatever our meals are wearing, Michael. They'll probably be your size,” Marko replied, taking another sip of beer and watching the boy intently to gauge his reaction. It was not a happy one.

“...Kill me.” Michael unwrapped the blanket from about his chest and clasped his hands calmly over his stomach.

“...Uh...what?” Marko was taken aback.

“Kill me, before David gets back. I don't want to hurt anybody, so just...y'know...kill me. David will still have his revenge, kinda, and I'm sure he'll eventually get over it.”

Marko placed the arm with the beer can over one knee, and propped his other arm up under his chin, exaggerating an expression of deep thought. He tapped a clawed finger on his chin and hummed.

“Nope. Don't think so,” he took another gulp of beer.

“Why not?”

“...You guys killed Dwayne and Paul. Not to mention Max. I cared about them too, Michael, and I'd like my own damn revenge, thank you very much,” Marko's voice sounded mildly agitated as he said it, but nowhere near as bad as it had been when he'd been pacing the room and fuming.

“What kind of revenge is keeping me alive?! It...it's nowhere near as bad as just killing me!” Michael protested.

“Michael...the fact that you're actively asking me to kill you just proves that it's the perfect revenge. You're not supposed to 'want' the punishment you're handed out. Clearly you don't want this, so...sorry.” Marko shrugged, smirking.

For a moment, Michael sat silently, staring at him.

“...Okay, don't kill me. Keep me alive forever with you guys. I'm sure being a vampire will be fun. I'll have all kinds of parties...yeah, I'm really warming up to the idea, now. Thank you, Marko. Thank you for making me realize what an incredible gift you've given-”

“Man, your reverse psychology skills are shit.” Marko laughed, tossing his half-full beer can into the oil drum and smirking while the liquid inside sizzled and squealed.

Michael was silent for a very long moment, staring ahead of him towards the end of the bed. His feet looked normal now, but it was small comfort. “...Then go to Hell, Marko.”

“We're already there, dude.”

Several pigeons descended from hidden rafters above them. Ready to nestle near the two fallen angels who, for their own reasons, truly were in Hell.

* * *

 

“Thorne, come on, buddy!” David cooed, or...tried to coo. He wasn't very good at sounding sweet. The Hellhound wasn't being very cooperative, huddling against the front door like a frightened puppy.

“Max is gone, Thorne. It's just us now. I'm your master,” David reasoned, kneeling down and holding out his gloved hand for the dog to sniff.

Thorne whined in response. He'd been mourning since he felt the connection between himself and Max severed, and wasn't too anxious to establish a new one. Especially not with the guy who always pelted him with bits of rock whenever Max wasn't looking. That was half the reason he was so violent when Lucy came to visit, though the other half was still his desire to protect his master and live up to his evil nature. The rocks didn't help.

David spread his hands, revealing that he held nothing to threaten the dog with. “Listen, buddy, I'm sorry. But things are different now. I'm going to take care of you, and you're going to take care of me. I need you, Thorne. Me and the boys are the last living...” David paused, “...kind of living relatives of Max. If you don't protect us, you'd be failing him. You don't want to do that, do you, Thorne?”

David wiggled his eyebrows, smirking. Thorne whined in response. Part of being a Hellhound was actively understanding what people said to him. It made training him to fetch that much easier, though he still refused to shake hands.

“Not to mention, I mean...we're going to get revenge. Big time. We can't do that without your help,” David brilliantly added. That seemed to do the trick, because soon Thorne was creeping forward to meet the blonde halfway.

“That wasn't so hard, was it, buddy?” David met the Hellhound in the middle and drug a claw across his right wrist, holding it out for Thorne to lap up the blood. Afterwards, the dog would be bound to him forever. And he wouldn't be able to resist when David came to call.


	6. Killing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Emmersons and Star fear the worst, while Marko and Michael finally get to share a meal together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It almost broke my heart doing this to Michael. Almost.

“Yes, I understand. Yes. Thank you, officer. I will.” Lucy replaced the phone on the receiver and wrapped her arms around her stomach as she turned back towards her father and youngest son sitting at the kitchen table. Star and Laddie were still out looking, though she was terrified to think of those two innocent kids wondering around at night after what she'd learned about Santa Carla. But they were gone before she could stop them.

“Anything?” Sam asked hopefully, looking up at his mother. His eyes were red-rimmed from crying, much like Lucy's. She shook her head sadly and glanced over at her father.

He simply sat quietly drinking his root beer with a thousand-yard stare in his eyes. He still didn't talk about what happened when he'd gotten home the night before, nor did he ever explain himself. Lucy didn't press him.

“They said they'd call. Then they told me to do the same if anything turned up. It's only been a day...” Lucy pressed a hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing. Lord knew what had happened to her baby, or what he'd gone through before she came home from her regrettable date with Max.

“Maybe he's out somewhere with his bike,” Sam suggested, glancing towards the kitchen window. It was still a mess, but they'd managed to mop up and sweep enough to at least navigate across the room and sit at the table. Frankly, nobody much cared about the state of the house right now.

“Honey, he would have been back by now,” Lucy replied, crossing to sit at the table beside her youngest and place a hand on his shoulder. He looked down at his hands in his lap, twiddling his thumbs wildly.

“Maybe there were more of them...” Sam trailed off, voicing his biggest fear.

“I doubt it,” Grandpa Emmerson spoke up as he sat his bottle down.

“Dad?” Lucy glanced over at her father, frowning slightly.

“Did either of you notice somethin' when you got up this morning?” The old man looked at his daughter, and then let his eyes quickly flick to his youngest grandson's face.

“Michael was gone...” Sam squinted, not really sure what he was asking.

“There wasn't a body by them horns. Lots of dust everywhere, though, when the sun came shining through...but none where that blondie kid was lying,” he said calmly, pushing himself back from the table.

“But maybe I'm just getting old...”

Sam bit his bottom lip, remaining silent. He'd had the same thought, too. So had Star...but Michael wasn't back at the cave. David wasn't even sleeping in their hiding spot where they'd staked the little one. Star didn't think there was anywhere else they could be, so he'd just kind of shrugged the thought away and gone home. Maybe his oldest brother snapped, and went for a ride to clear his head? Maybe he just didn't want to come back home right now? Maybe Sam was just kidding himself, he snorted.

Lucy looked over at her youngest son and reached down to place a hand on his underneath the table.

“It's okay, sweety. We'll find him. I'm sure he's...I'm sure nothing bad has happened to him. Dad probably just forgot where he put that boy's body last night.” She flinched at the idea. Dead teenagers, skeleton, blackened body parts...Max with his horrible face before her father had blasted through the garage door to save the day.

“Dad, how did you know that Max was-” Lucy looked back over at her father, realizing she hadn't asked him about the matter yet.

“Bad breath, Lucy. I smelt it when I came home after your little dinner date. That kinda stench lingers...it's the smell of death, sweetheart. Smelt a bit of it on Michael too, when he came home after hanging around with that girly of his. I just watched Sammy and his little friends powering around yesterday, and put two and two together,” the old man shrugged, standing up and grabbing his bottle to toss it in the trash. It clattered loudly at the bottom.

“Now I may not know where Michael is, right now...but if that boy down there really didn't turn into a vampire popover this morning with the rest of them...frankly, Lucy, we might as well start saying his last rites.”

“...Jeeze, grandpa...” Sam squeezed his mother's hand, reassuring her that he was just fine. “You don't have to act like he's dead or anything...he just went out for a ride...” He repeated what he'd said earlier, though with a little less conviction.

 _”Mikey, where the hell are you?”_ Sam thought, looking towards the kitchen window.

 

* * *

 

“I don't wanna go, Star!” Laddie protested as the dark-haired girl led him through the boardwalk with his hand tightly wrapped in her own. There were people everywhere, and she felt incredible relief to know that for the first time in ages...she couldn't hear any heartbeats. Couldn't smell anything beyond the odor of patchouli and salt air, mingled with sweat and cigarettes.

“Laddie, this isn't up for debate. I love you, sweety, but you've got a family to go back to. A real one.” She soothed him, pulling Laddie closer beside her and placing the hand that wasn't clasped in his upon his head to gently caress the fine locks.

“But I don't wanna forget you...” He gazed up into her eyes, frowning. “And I wanna help find Michael. So you won't be alone, Star.”

“Laddie, I'm sure he's somewhere here...and he's okay. He'll go back to his family's place when he's feeling better. You know what we all went through...after what he had to do to David...” She nearly choked at the memory of her lover's raspy voice when he'd tried to keep Sam from seeing him in his monstrous form. Her heart broke for him in that moment, knowing what he'd had to do, and what he was afraid he _could_ do afterwards. Even if she'd never changed like Michael, Star more than felt the same hunger as him. And she wanted to be beside him, making sure he never felt the same hurt as he did the previous night.

It was kind of silly thinking about him, about how much she cared for a guy she hadn't known more than a few days. But there it was...young love in full blossom. God knew there were a thousand songs on the subject. Possibly a million.

“Star?” Laddie asked, gazing up at his temporary sister of a few weeks that would last in his heart for the rest of his life. “Star, what's wrong?” He squeezed Star's hand, eyes growing wide and panicked.

“Nothing, Laddie. I was just lost in thought...hey, I don't think we're going to find him tonight...do you want to spend our last evening together eating cotton candy and having a bit of fun?” She asked, raising her voice just a little to reassure the child that all was well. It wasn't. It really wasn't. But if she let herself think about that for even a moment, she knew she'd crumple to the ground. For Laddie, Star would be strong. For Michael? She would wait. Star knew in her heart of hearts that sooner or later, he would come back home to his family. She'd be there for him, provided Lucy and Sam didn't mind.

She smirked at Laddie as he began to bob up and down in excitement, exclaiming about all the amazing things he wanted to do on the boardwalk that his parents never let him do before, and he never got to do because the guys only wanted to drive around and scare people. Star laughed, lifting Laddie up into her arms and hugging him tightly. With his head pressed to the side of her face, it was okay to cry just a little. Because he couldn't see it.

 

* * *

 

 

David sailed over the shore of the beach, two unconscious victims wrapped in both arms. He'd had his fill earlier after making his deal with Thorne, so they were less of a temptation. His strength was back in spades now, and he had much more energy to deal with any kind of difficulty he'd faced when he returned to the hotel...not that he would, as hungry as Michael should be getting right about now. David grinned at the thought, remembering just how much blood he'd taken from the boy the previous night.

Fighting the blood lust was difficult when you drank from the bottle. Impossible when you drank from the vein. The brunette had no idea what he was in for in only a matter of minutes. David glanced down at the two men in his arms. Punks from the boardwalk. Neon Mohawks, piercings, and all. One of them wore a jacket to match the very same Michael had bought the night he and David first officially met. It looked good on him, which was a real shame. That was exactly what made the blonde decide on this man as a victim...the irony was just too delicious.

He was flying slowly, not because of the burden, but because Thorne was dashing through the sand beneath him to keep up. The dog had perked a little after their exchange of blood, and oddly enough...he was even fond of the mutt now. Maybe that was part of what their bond entailed.

“Are you ready to meet Mikey and Marko?” David shouted below, causing one of the men in his arms to stir. He frowned, picking up just a little speed. It would be a bit more of a hassle to fly with them if they were squirming, and he was pretty sure if he bashed their heads in again...they probably wouldn't survive. Thorne didn't seem to have too much trouble keeping up. He even seemed a little excited.

“You're hungry too, huh?” He shouted below, chuckling. Thorne let loose a howl in response. He'd take that as a yes.

 

* * *

 

 

“What if I pissed you off so bad, you just ripped my throat out?” Michael suggested.

“No.”

“...If I attacked you? Maybe you'd do it as self-defense?”

“No.”

“...Insulted your mother?”

“She was a bitch. So, no.”

“Killed one of your birds?”

“Still no, Michael. I'd just beat the shit out of you.”

They had been playing this game for an hour now, and still Marko wouldn't kill him. It was actually starting to become a bit entertaining for both of them, the creative ideas Michael was proposing. At least for the moment, he could forget he was miserable, until David got back. Not that for a moment he forgot the horrific sight of Marko killing those guys on the beach, just like the others. But what could he do? He was probably capable of the same thing now, even if the idea made him want to punch a hole through the mattress.

“Okay, say I tried to escape. I take your jacket with me, and I rip it in half. Then I burn it. I cut your hair...knock your beer out of your hand on the way out...and throw your bike in the ocean. _Then,_ would you kill me?”

Marko kept his head tilted and raised his eyes to glance at Michael, the words 'not gonna happen' clearly on the verge of being spoken. But then, the mood was shattered by a stream of expletives at the entrance, and a man with a cut-off t-shirt and a green Mohawk came tumbling down the steps. He was soon followed by a twin in a leather jacket.

Both of them were dazed, in a tangle of limbs, and struggled to regain their feet.

“Took you long enough,” Marko called towards David as the blonde strolled idly in with Thorne in tow.

“What the fuck, man?!” The punk with the jacket snapped, looking around with a panicked and wide-eyed expression at his surroundings.

“Ugh, I hate the loud ones...” Marko griped, standing up and quickly crossing the short distance towards both men. The less verbal punk turned to run towards the exit, only to be blocked by David standing with a menacing expression on his face...and Thorne beside him growling.

“Hey, look dude, we're sorry. We didn't know it was your bike, okay? We woulda given it back...” He held up his hands and backed away, spinning around again...and running straight into Marko's surprisingly immovable shape. For a small guy, he was as solid as a brick wall.

“You don't have to apologize to these assholes, Rick!” The punk in the jacket shouted, running towards his companion. Marko's arm darted out and punched him in the face, sending him to fall flat on the ground, dazed. After his scuffle with David, earlier, the guy wasn't really able to put up much of a fight.

Michael might have been able to restrain himself a bit longer before that. Maybe even gotten enough strength to leave the room when he realized what was happening, distancing himself from the hunger...and the two pumping sources of vitality that could ease said hunger.

But...the guy on the ground...his nose was bleeding. From that moment, Michael was finally and truly lost.

In a surge of power he didn't even know he had, he was across the room and straddling the guy in the leather jacket, hands pressing the man's arms into the ground. His victim regained just enough of his wits to realize a snarling monster was on top of him with vicious-looking fangs and a pair of demonic orange eyes, before everything when black for him...and red for Michael.

“Atta boy, Mikey!” Marko crowed, pulling his own victim in and grinning as he let his own fangs descend.

“Bravo!” David cheered on, much as he had the night Michael drank from their sacramental wine bottle. At that moment, his hatred and love (though he wouldn't really admit it was) merged as one. Just for that blissful sight of Michael finally giving in to what he was. Maybe even what he always had been.

Subject to the whims of the darkness inside him at that moment, there was little of Michael left to fight or to think, or to even resent what was happening. It was only the deep hunger that scratched and pulled at his belly, and that precious life fluid pumping beneath the flushed skin of his victim. He leaned down and finally bit and tore into the rough neck of the man. The taste of liquor and coke added a pleasant high beyond just the blood, and he was elated. He was happy, and god it tasted so good...just like Marko had said it would.

In that moment, as he felt the life of the man pour into his own body, he hardly noticed the cold settling into his own skin, making the thrashing body beneath him feel that much hotter in comparison. He didn't notice how much more natural his fangs felt with each passing second, or how much brighter the dim lighting in the cave seemed to become, like daylight even. All he noticed was the taste of the blood. And the power.

Nearby, Marko had already begun to tear into his own meal, and he didn't hold himself quite so pained as he had before. Human blood sure beat rats and dogs.

David watched them both and tucked his hands into his pockets smirking. It was nice having a family, he thought to himself privately. And...death suited Michael quite nicely. As for Marko, David couldn't even really remember what he'd been like when he was alive.


	7. Screwing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David finally makes good on his promise with Michael, and for half of it...Michael actually enjoys himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the non-consent/rape chapter that is warned about in the story description. Please keep this in mind as you read it. If you feel you can not handle graphic depictions on that subject, feel free to skip it.

He had wondered when he watched the others hunt out their prey, and been forced to witness the gruesome sight...how they managed to drink so much blood. How they could possibly have enough room in their bodies to ingest enough to kill a man. Were Michael in his right mind now, he would have supposed the question answered itself.

Even after the form wrapped tightly in his arms, a parody of an embrace, grew cold and still...Michael tried to pump it for more blood. _”More.”_ The little voice in his mind whispered, an eager hiss. But there was no more left...

Long fingers trailed down his back as Michael finally released the dead man and watched him fall to the ground, eyes wide and empty. Frozen in an agonized grimace. He should have felt remorse, but there was another nagging feeling pushing his wits away. The feeling of another kind of hunger. Something that went beyond the gentle love and obsession he felt for Star.

It was unbridled, beastial lust. As if the fingers caressing his spine seemed to know what he was thinking, they moved towards his shoulders, and pulled Michael back until he was lying flat on the ground. Bits of sharp pebbles and even a shard from a broken beer bottle pressed into his flesh, cutting it, but he was past caring.

A man crawled around Michael's side, and he eagerly leaned down to press a bruising kiss to the boy's mouth. The world was still red, and he didn't even remember the man's name in the moment. Only one word seemed to suit him right now. _Master._

It felt good to think about that word, roll it around in his mind, embrace it even as his master embraced him and dug sharp nails along Michael's torso, delighting in the sight of ruby red droplets forming from the scratches. The boy flinched, but at the same time...desperately wanted more.

 

* * *

 

 

David leaned down to lap at the scratches before they healed, groaning into Michael's skin as he did. It was incredibly arousing, apparently for both parties. He delighted in knowing it was so easy to bring his childe around when they were in the right circumstances. It was enthralling to know he didn't even have to touch Michael to do it, either. He'd willed it the night before, and it happened...as simple as that. After enough practice, he was sure it would come far more natural to his reluctant lover.

Marko had long finished his own meal, and was crouching against the cave wall, watching the two have their fun together. One of his hands trailed down Thorne's back, soothing the animal, reminding it that they wouldn't leave any time soon. He'd never seen David so excited about the act before, if he wasn't about to kill his object of affection. Even when they'd brought Star back to the cave, the blonde leader of their group was practically bored as he bedded her. Marko smirked, wondering if Michael had any idea how far the two had gone before he arrived on the scene.

 _”Michael,”_ David groaned into his childe's mouth as he felt the pressure of the boy's crotch grinding into his own. If he didn't focus, he could easily 'finish the race' before it even began.

“What's my name, Michael?” David pulled back, a satisfied glimmer in his eyes. Michael's first feeding would ensure he was nice and cooperative long enough to get to the good part without his even being aware of what he was doing. Hell, David had done this to all the boys after their first meals. It was one of the best parts.

“Hm?” Michael grunted, not understanding the question.

“Tell me my name, Michael, and we can have a bit more fun...I just want to hear you say it,” he teased, hand creeping down to slowly stroke Michael's lower belly...just above his zipper, and the incredibly obvious evidence of his arousal. Really, he was quite big.

“Come on, David, give him a break! He's already gonna try and pound you when he remembers the difference between left and right,” Marko called out, receiving a glare from David in turn. Marko held up his hands and laughed.

“Okay, I get it, I'll give you some privacy...” He trailed off. By privacy, he meant he wasn't going to talk. He wasn't about to miss the action.

_”Master...”_

“What?” David's attention was drawn back to Michael, almost taken aback at how truly easy this actually was. He clicked his tongue against his fangs and chuckled to himself. Maybe the boy actually did like him more than he let on. He just didn't have his tough guy act right now to hide it.

 _”Master...please...”_ Michael squirmed beneath him, growing physically more agitated for a quite different reason than the usual bad temper.

David was only too happy to comply, and he quickly yanked Michael's pants down without so much as pausing at the zipper. He was so eager to finally unwrap his little package before Christmas, he ripped the denim beyond repair. Thankfully the dead punks on the ground nearby had extras. Even if he enjoyed the glorious sight of Michael naked and prone in front of him...when they went out on their nightly trips to the boardwalk, he'd stick out. More than they normally did, with their leather and motorcycles.

Marko bit his lip to refrain from making an amusing remark. He was the reason David and Star only had sex once, with his constant heckling...well, him and Paul. Paul was gone now, though. So was Dwayne...man, what a bitch. It would take ages for him to train Michael to be even half as fun as them. Marko really hated the idea of spending eternity with a buzzkill.

He'd gotten so absorbed in his own thoughts, Marko had almost missed the sight of David carrying Michael like a blushing bride towards the bed and tossing him down. That musty old mattress was just another rite of passage in their gang, he thought privately. Really, the blood part was a big aspect...but not one Lost Boy had managed to get away without a little fun time in the ancient bed.

David quickly stripped off his own coat and knelt down to run a hand through Michael's hair. The brunette pressed his face eagerly into David's palm and reveled in the feel of being so close to him. His hand was soft and gentle, and the other one that had begun to massage his chest was equally nice. Every single sensation, every single touch seemed magnified by the bloodlust.

“Marko, bring me the bottle!” David snapped towards the small blonde in the corner, who had become much more interested in cuddling Thorne at that point. He sighed, standing up and crossing the cave towards where the bottle still lay on it's side, half-empty.

“Marko, do this. Marko, do that. Marko...” He mumbled under his breath, snatching the bottle up and tossing it towards David. The master vampire caught it with ease, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Trying to break my hand?” He asked, pouring some of the blood in the bottle onto his hand and rubbing his fingers together.

“Who, me? Never!” Marko replied sarcastically, crossing his arms and watching the display.

“Are you seriously about to do what I think you're about to do?” He asked, almost shocked. Almost. He'd known David too long to actually _be_ shocked. Still...he got pretty close.

“Well, it's useless now. There's no power left in it, with Max gone. Might as well do something so it doesn't go to waste,” David shrugged. Truthfully, he just didn't have anything else at hand besides some hot beer, and he really didn't want his dick to smell like fermented wheat later.

At the moment, Michael couldn't care less about the bickering. He was becoming impatient, and nearly dug his sharp nails into David's hips to get his attention. The boy didn't really have any idea _what_ he wanted right then, but he knew he _really_ wanted it.

David allowed himself to simply enjoy the look of impatience and frustration on Michael's face. This was how he always wanted to see him. A slave to his physical needs, completely unaware of himself and his silly little emotional issues. It was how he'd wanted to see Michael the night the boy first joined them in the sunken hotel, drinking from their sacramental bottle, and reveling in the sensation of the red liquid inside sliding down his throat. But Star had been too close to the boy then, close enough to protest and make sure he at least had enough of his wits about him to have more interest in her body than David's.

But now she wasn't here. It was just them...and Marko and Thorne, but mostly just them. Michael looked so delicious as he bit his lip when David's blood-soaked index finger stroked his entrance. He was unbelievably sensitive right now, glutted on his first meal. Gorgeous and willing.

Slowly, David pressed his finger into Michael, wiggling it to test the boy's reaction. He squirmed, but he didn't pull away. The brunette sighed and let his head fall back on the mattress, closing his eyes. From there, David really began to work his magic.

They were both lost to the moment, David in the thrill of _finally_ having Michael completely submit to him, and...well...Michael was being finger fucked, so that was definitely a distraction. Until a pair of cold lips kissed a trail down his neck. Michael cracked his eyes open to look into the gleeful face of Marko. He was a little confused, but-

“THE FUCK, MARKO?! PRIVACY!” David yelled, yanking his hand away from Michael's entrance and glaring at the other vampire, who looked far too amused with himself.

“What? C'mon man, why can't we all get-”

“OUT! OUT!” David shouted, pointing towards the exit of the cave.

“Hey, I almost died last night!” Marko protested, standing up from the mattress. He hadn't really been trying to join in, he just kind of wanted to piss David off. It just ended up working a little too well.

“He's _mine._ Nobody touches him unless I say so!” David fumed, shoving Marko a little further away from the bed.

For Michael's part, the haze was finally beginning to clear. Having a couple of fingers come dangerously close to his prostate, and then getting a good earful from an enraged David was more than enough to bring him back to himself.

“What the...” Michael groaned, pulling his knees up to his chest and snatching up the crumpled blanket beside him to cover his shame.

“...Fuck, now he's...damn it, Marko!” David threw a moth-eaten pillow at a quickly retreating Marko, who cackled gleefully as he slipped from the cave with Thorne on his trail.

“Get the hell away from me!” Michael shouted, throwing a punch and nailing David right in the face. The older vampire pulled back and snarled. In a flash, he had Michael flipped around and lying on his stomach with his knees drawn close.

“I'm not _done._.” David snarled, unzipping his pants and pulling Michael close to him. The brunette struggled beneath his 'master', but wasn't strong enough. Not anymore. He squeezed his eyes shut tight when he suddenly felt it. Something firm and cold pressing into his ass.

He wanted his cry to be one of rage, but it wasn't. Michael was running out of furious energy to even fight back, after everything. Images of the man he'd actually _killed_ flooded his mind's eye, and privately...he felt like he deserved this. Deserved to be violated, because what he'd done was much worse...and unforgivable.

It began with a gentle rocking motion, and the feeling of being stretched didn't seem quite so intense as it might have. He could barely recall the moments before when he'd kissed and been kissed, called David his 'master', and enjoyed the erotic feeling of the fingers that prepared him for this. But the older vampire had little patience right now, and as soon as he reached an angle he enjoyed, he was riding Michael roughly...digging his claws into the boy's stomach as he reached around him to give himself a bit more leverage.

The friction of being used so roughly quickly did begin to hurt, however. Blood was not a good substitute for lubricant. It dried too quickly, became sticky and thin in the process. Made the pain worse, at least for Michael.

“Why?” Michael rasped, on the verge of being truly broken. Almost past caring.

David grabbed Michael's hair with one hand and dragged his head up, leaning over to whisper into the boy's neck, after softly dragging his fangs across the soft skin there, “because you're mine, Michael. You should have figured that out by now. You were mine before you even drank Max's blood...”

What scared him now, with his arousal rubbing against the sheets beneath him, was that maybe David was right. A tingling sensation building up inside him as David finally began to hit a point inside his body that went beyond pain seemed to drive the point home. He couldn't understand why any part of being used like this should begin to feel good. He really was a monster now...

David threw his own head back, growling and picking up even more speed. It felt so good to be on top. He knew that soon enough, Michael would begin to crave these moments together, if he didn't already. David just had to make him realize that.

They came in unison, and fell to the bed in a tangle of limbs when David disengaged from Michael's entrance, leaving small nips on his childe's back and holding him tightly to his chest so he couldn't get away.

Lying in silence together, neither of them wanted to speak.

Wrapped in David's arms, Michael lay on his side and gazed at the two lifeless forms on the floor of the cave. He closed his eyes and let bloody tears soak the pillow beneath him, though he didn't make a sound. He deserved this. He deserved it.

David smiled privately, tenderly caressing Michael's hair with one hand and keeping his opposing arm wrapped tightly about his companion. Revenge had it's good parts. After what he'd had to go through to get to this point, he felt he really deserved this. He deserved it.


	8. Worrying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marko plots. Lucy cries. Sam talks. Edgar and Allen mourn. Everybody worries for one reason or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the Frogs finally make an appearance.

Marko walked alongside Thorne on the sandy beach, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans. He felt pretty damn lonely right now, after all but being thrown out of the hotel while David had his fun. He sighed, pulling one of his hands out of a pocket to run it through his long hair.

Thorne barked up at him, whining.

"What, you got something to say?" Marko quirked an eyebrow, giving the Hellhound a subtle smirk, and kneeling to rub behind his ears.

"Do you miss Max, boy?" He asked, standing up again and continuing to walk. The crash of the waves licking at the shore gave him a shiver. It was a thrill to bathe in the salty water, if he could find the right standing pond. But if he was caught by the tide, he'd have welts all over his body afterwards. Running or moving water had that effect on vampires. He didn't really know why. But it was a hard-learned lesson after he'd first turned and tried to do a little body surfing against David and Max's advice.

His lips twitched at the memory of Paul doing the same damn thing. Dwayne was a bit smarter, though, and hung behind. They'd been turned on the same night...friends in life and death. They left the pack on the same night too...

"Fuck, man..." Marko kicked a shell and watched it sail through the air to land with a loud plunk in the water nearby. It really sucked, caring about others. Except for his 'brothers', he hadn't cared for anyone else in a long time. He'd never thought about losing them before...

Being undead...they all just seemed kind of indestructible. They were, in a way...until Michael's stupid little brother decided to play buddy buddy with those geeks at the comic shop.

"Hey...Thorne..." Marko knelt down again and pulled the dog into his arms, grinning as he leaned his face into Thorne's ears. "What do ya say we have a little bit of our own fun tonight, huh? Give the guys who helped kill Max a bit of a scare?"

Thorne growled, but it wasn't an aggressive one...it was quite agreeable.

Marko laughed, pulling away and sailing into the sky. "Think you can keep up?" He called down below, arms crossed as his legs dangled just a few feet shy over the Hellhound. Thorne playfully leapt to snap at Marko's heels.

"Alright!" Marko crowed, taking off. Those Frogs had taken his brothers, so...it only made sense to return the favor.

For the first time since he'd been staked below the heart, and felt himself falling to the ground at the bottom of the cave, stuck there until he was able to wake himself from daytime slumber to the agony of healing and hunger...Marko felt alive again.

But slowly he drew to a stop as a thought pierced his haze of blood lust and glee...they were probably stocked to the brim with crosses and shit at their little kiddy shop. When David and the others had gone in with guns blazing, that hadn't turned out too well for them...he'd have to think of a plan.

Marko crossed his arms, and felt a cold lump in the front pocket of his jacket. He raised an eyebrow and reached inside to pull out a lighter. His thumb twitched and struck the little flame into life, and he grinned. Who said revenge had to be subtle?

* * *

Sam listened to Edgar drone on and on over the phone line about Superman comics. Maybe he would have cared if his brother hadn't gone missing, or if the gruffer of the Frog brothers knew what the hell he was talking about. Everyone knew there was no such thing as pink kryptonite! And compared to Superman, Batman was a total wuss.

"Listen, Edgar, I wanna talk about Michael," Sam finally managed to jump into the conversation with something relevant to his own concerns.

"What about him? He...he turned back to normal and everything, didn't he? Cause if he killed someone, he's a bloodsucker for life, and you gotta stake him-"

"Edgar, shut up for a second, okay? Mikey was fine after the head vampire died. He turned back to normal and everything. He even told mom he was gonna go to the beach with Star this morning."

"Then what's the problem? Does he think Aquaman could take them on in a fight? Cause I can tell you right now, that makes your brother even dumber than a vampire."

"He went missing this morning. He didn't come home either, and I don't think he plans to. He didn't even tell his girlfriend where he was going," Sam sighed, leaning back against the headboard of his bed and glancing over at the Rob Lowe posted on his closet door. Why his brother thought it was funny to constantly sneak that thing back in here was beyond him.

"Well...he probably went to do some drugs and party. That's a pretty big deal around here." Edgar suggested this in a much more flippant manner than even Sam expected from him.

"Look, just...keep your eye out for him on the boardwalk, okay? Me and mom are gonna be real busy around the house until school starts, and we really need some extra help trying to find him. Promise me you'll do that for me."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. Anything else?"

"Yeah. Superman's dad is named Jor-El, not Jarrel." Sam hung up the phone abruptly after his satisfying final statement. Even if the guy did know a thing or two about vampires, he sure didn't know much about DC.

* * *

The next morning, Lucy and her dad had decided it would be a good idea to start discussing repairs to the house. She didn't have a job anymore, with her boss dead, so there were a lot of things to consider. Not matter how good her father was at his taxidermy work, it could only cover so many bills.

"Well, we can go to a few junkyards. A dump. I'm sure we'll find ourselves a good sink and tub that way, maybe even some old counter tops. Then there's the widow Johnson, always going on about renovating one of these days. Maybe I can offer some help, get her old stuff when I help her tear it out. Course, it's all gonna take time..." He reasoned, turning away from the fridge with a bottle of root beer in his hand.

"Dad, I'm sorry about all this," Lucy whispered, looking out towards the window.

"Lucy, baby, you don't have anything to be sorry about," her father crossed towards the kitchen table and practically slammed his bottle down.

"You've got a lot to deal with right now, and you sure as hell didn't ask for some vampire to stroll in here and destroy my house. You didn't ask for him to try and turn your kids into monsters, neither. I don't want to hear you say you're sorry again, you hear?" He chided, voice raised. Though his tone was full of agitation, it was concern that drove him.

He knelt down and took his daughter's hands into his, rubbing at her wrists gently in a soothing motion.

"Lucy, you're a strong woman. Now, you may not think you are. You cry, and boy do you ever cry...but lots of women do that. Lots of men do it too. But you try your best, and you don't give up. Michael will come back soon, I'm...hoping. In the meantime, I will always be here for you, because I'm your daddy."

She felt like a little girl again, hearing him say that word. 'Daddy'. The last time Lucy had called him that was before she snuck out of her bedroom window in high school to make the grave mistake of running off with her now ex-husband.

"Oh, dad," Lucy sobbed, leaning forward to embrace her father tightly.

He stroked her hair in turn and whispered soothing words to his only daughter, who'd been through enough garbage to last a lifetime. "Everything's gonna be okay, Lucy. I never much liked this kitchen anyway...and that bathroom needed a new tub. They both knew she wasn't crying about the house.

* * *

That morning, the Frog brothers found out from their parents that the shop had caught fire in the middle of the night. There seemed to be no logical cause, but maybe one of the customers had been smoking a cigarette, or someone outside had flicked one in and it hadn't really gotten going on a decent flame until Alan and Edgar had closed up for the night. Either way, they'd lost everything. So neither of them had much time to think about the promise Edgar had made to Sam.

Alan nudged a pile of charred wood with one of his feet before he and his brother were ushered away from the sight of their family's former livelihood. He just couldn't understand it. One night, and their whole lives were basically ruined.

"Edgar, Alan, come over here. Your father and I have something to tell you," Alan jerked toward the sound of his mother's voice. She was ringing her hands around the end of her rainbow neck scarf, and nervously biting her lip.

"What is it?" Edgar grouched, glaring still at the destroyed comic shop.

"It's going to take awhile to find out if our insurance is going to cover...any of this..." She squeaked, pressing a hand to her mouth to keep from sobbing. Their father stepped up behind her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. They were normally pretty laid-back, hardly even aware of their surroundings. But sometimes tragedy can be pretty damned sobering.

"If we can get enough money out of this, we're thinking about leaving Santa Carla," Their dad smiled weakly, trying to reassure them with his facial expression that it was a good idea.

Neither Alan nor Edgar could think of anything to say. At that moment, they finally let their tough guy acts drop, and they embraced their parents together. But at least they still had each other.

"This bites," Alan sighed into his mom's shoulder.

"You think we should charge them a bit more than we were thinking?" Edgar asked his brother conspiratorially. Somehow their parents missed it.

"Triple it." Alan replied quickly. Both of them wanted to stay and protect Santa Carla, since vampire hunting looked like it might very well be their only paying job now.


End file.
